


put your good face on

by jayemgriffin



Series: one step forward/step right back [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Tabletop RPG)
Genre: Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gaslighting, Gen, Grooming, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Violence, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 05:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17954426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayemgriffin/pseuds/jayemgriffin
Summary: NB: None of the violence or abuse is sexual.Things change. Sometimes a lot. Sometimes too much.





	1. Chapter 1

The morning after her Harrowing, she woke up before first bell, though she’d been too excited to sleep much. The new robes of a full mage lay next to her bed, and she felt a surge of pride as she slipped them over her head. She still had to be careful, she cautioned herself; she was new yet, and every other mage in the Circle outranked her.

_ But _ , she thought,  _ I’ll be studying with  _ him.  _ I’ll work hard, I’ll be good, and then maybe someday I can leave. _

She skipped the dining hall and went straight to his workshop; she was far too excited to eat. Her heart hammered in her chest as she raised her hand and knocked. She remembered herself a moment later. “Senior Enchanter? It’s Aylin.”

She could hear the smile in his voice as he called, “Come in, child.”

She slipped inside, taking in the neat shelves of books and scrolls clearly labeled in a dark, slashing hand. A glass cabinet of potions gleamed next to the desk where he sat, reading a thick, leather-bound tome. She was almost too excited to remember to bow her head and not fidget as she spoke. “I’m here, and ready to start studying.”

“So you are.” His smile widened, and she watched his fingers form the shape of a spell, directed at her. It was force magic. Her mind recoiled - she’d been wrong, he wasn’t any better than the rest of the enchanters, what had she  _ done _ -

She saw the spell release, and she couldn’t stop herself from flinching. A heavy wooden thud sounded from behind her. It took her a moment to realize that she felt no pain - or any effect at all. It slowly registered that he had simply been closing the door. She opened her eyes to see him standing in front of her with a concerned look on his face.

“Aylin? Is everything all right?”

The words tripped over one another trying to get out. “Yes, yes, Senior Enchanter, everything is fine, I just thought, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean, I won’t-”

He held up a hand to silence her, but he looked far more concerned than angry. “Did you think I was going to hurt you?”

Abruptly, all her words were gone. She snapped her mouth shut and nodded, ashamed.

“Oh, child.” A gentle hand lifted her chin to meet his eyes. “Aylin. I swear to you, by the Chant, that I will never spill a drop of your blood. You are far too valuable for that. Do you understand?”

Her vision shimmered a little bit through the tears welling in her eyes. “Y-yes, Senior Enchanter.” On a wild impulse, she added, “Thank you.”

Another tender smile, and a fond pat on her shoulder. “No need to thank me. I can already see I’ve chosen well. Now, shall we get to work?”


	2. Chapter 2

Over time, working together became as natural as her own heartbeat. If he needed a text or a tool, she was at his side, offering it. He didn’t even have to ask to pull mana from her; she would reach for him, offering her hand for the sharp tug at her energy. He trusted her, and she wanted more than anything to be worthy of that trust. He was kind to her, and she longed to be worthy of his kindness. Sometimes, he’d flash a smile at her, equal parts proud and grateful, and her heart would sing. She was useful; she was  _ good _ . She held those brief moments to her heart and hoarded them like treasures. They kept her going when everything was confusing, and when the templars chose to exercise their power (which was often), and when she missed her family so badly it felt like she’d lost a limb.

(They still hadn’t written back. She’d written them hundreds of letters, begging for scraps of news outside the Gallows, but she never received a single line in response. Perhaps they had written her off as dead, like aunt Ryenne before her. Perhaps they were too ashamed to have a mage in the family to acknowledge her. Perhaps the templars were suppressing their replies. Perhaps they weren’t even delivering her letters. She kept writing.) 

She was getting better outside of her studies, too. She asked fewer questions and broke fewer rules - but the walls of the tower still chafed, sometimes. When she got that itch under her skin, she’d close her books and slip down to the infirmary where the creation mages practiced. She wasn’t really one of them, but for whatever reason, her presence was tolerated. Perhaps the enchanters figured it would keep her out of trouble.

She picked up bits from fellow mages and apprentices: the basics of healing magic, some simple chirugury and wound care, how to mix medicines. This was beautiful in its own way, despite the blood and shit and vomit. 

It was also  _ hard _ . By now, seven years into her work at the Circle, spirit magic came almost naturally to her. She knew just how to insinuate her will into the raw energy of magic and direct it as she pleased. When she healed, it was as though there was another will already there, pushing back against her own, and she had to coax it to do what she wished instead of simply imposing. It required finesse, and care, and time, but it was always worth it in the end.

The first time she knit a bone together under the watchful eye of the supervising mage, she nearly teared up. The girl’s wrist had been broken, and now it was fixed. She’d mended something - with magic, even. This felt good. It felt right. It was such a change from tearing everything apart.

Eventually, the enchanter in charge of the infirmary informed her that if she wanted to pursue her informal apprenticeship any farther, she would need permission from her mentor. After five years, she knew just how to approach him: head bowed respectfully, eyes down, hands clasped in front where it was obvious she wasn’t casting. Still, her heart was in her throat as she knocked, was admitted, and presented her case. It would be better for her to have more tools; if the darkspawn came again, she could attack and heal; learning more about any other school helped her understand magic itself better; developing the subtlety required to heal a living being couldn’t help but translate to her work in spirit magic...

When she dared to look up, his face remained perfectly neutral, like a mask. The moments stretched into eternity before he finally said, “Don’t let it distract you.” Which was permission, wasn’t it? She wouldn’t, she promised; she was a force mage first and foremost. She owed him that, after all. She’d be good.


	3. Chapter 3

When she’d promised to not let her healing distract her, she’d meant it, but her good intentions melted all at once one day when she passed by a door and heard a child crying. She’d cried like that just after they’d taken her. There were no locks on the apprentices’ doors, but she knocked anyway, to announce herself.

They couldn’t have been more than ten. Green eyes peeked out at her between stubby fingers. She winced in sympathy at the fresh burn puckering their forearm. Enchanter Horvath, School of Primal, didn’t appreciate students nodding off in his classes.

She sank to her knees in front of the child - like this, they were a bit taller than her. “Shhh,” she whispered, “it’ll be alright. My name is Aylin. What’s yours?”

“Keth,” they whimpered, breath still hitching. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll be quiet.”

“No, no, that’s no trouble. Did you get hurt?” She gestured to their forearm, and they nodded.

“Y-yes, I didn’t mean to fall asleep in class, I promise- ”

“I know, I know. No one ever does. Can I see?” They regarded her cautiously before reaching out their arm. “Thank you. I’m going to touch the burn now. It’s probably going to hurt. I’m sorry.” They nodded, and winced as she probed the skin. Maker. It was too damaged for her to repair fully - after a long day of work, her mana was nearly gone. She could help, though, and sent as much as she could spare into their skin. She met Keth’s stunned stare with a quiet smile as she fished around in her bag for the salve she’d made a few days ago and a clean bandage. 

She fixed them up quickly, all too aware that one of the enchanters could walk by at any time. This wasn’t forbidden, exactly, but she’d been here too long to think that it was therefore permitted. She tied off the bandage with another smile. “There. Leave that on until tomorrow night, then wash it off with cold water. It shouldn’t scar too badly. Does it still hurt?”

They took their arm back and moved it carefully, opening and closing their fist. “Yes. A little. It’s a lot better, though.”

“Do you need something for the pain?”

They shook their head. “No. It’s not that bad. It just feels like - like a scrape, I guess- ” Their voice started wobbling again, and she could almost feel the memory of playing in cobblestone streets with siblings and friends, when wounds would have been patched up by parents or aunties or neighbors and not a stranger in a cold tower. Time for her to go.

“All right. Just - don’t tell anyone, yes?”

They nodded frantically, and she slipped out, closing the door behind her. Out in the hallway, she exhaled. That had been dangerous, for her and Keth both. But - it was its own kind of useful, its own kind of good. Perhaps she preferred this.


	4. Chapter 4

It didn’t quite become a routine - she didn’t dare that much - but she found herself patching up apprentices, sometimes other full mages, more and more frequently. They all knew the dangers, instinctively, but it was its own addiction. She was getting better and better with every mended bone and erased scar, every banished disease and bandaged wound. Whenever she could help ease the burden of her fellow mages just a little, it somehow felt easier to bear her own.

And that was dangerous - she  _ knew _ that was dangerous. Without the pressure of that burden, she succumbed to recklessness and overconfidence. She forgot her humility, and hadn’t that been what broke the Golden City, in the end? So it was her own fault, really, when she got caught up in the infirmary and arrived late to lessons. Perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes would’ve been forgiven, but she had lost track of time burning the gangrene out of an apprentice’s lashings, and she arrived at her mentor’s workshop an hour and a half past time.

She knew, from the cold “Come in” that answered her knock, that it would be bad, but nothing could have prepared her for opening the door and seeing him standing in the middle of the floor, pure murder burning in his eyes. He took a single step forward, and she flinched like he’d slapped her across the face. Panic blossomed in her chest.

Even as she tried to reason her way through it - he promised me he wouldn’t hurt me, he promised, he’s never broken a promise - her heartbeat sped up until she could feel the blood thrumming in her neck. Purely out of instinct, she found herself backing up until she finally hit the door. He loomed down over her, and she cringed. “Please, Senior Enchanter, it’s not, I lost track of time, I didn’t mean -”

She heard her ribs crack before she felt the pain. Her wide eyes stared back at him, hand lingering in the final gesture of a spell she knew very well. She just never thought it’d be used on her. “But - but you said - ” 

The chill in his voice hurt more than the burn in her side. “I said I wouldn’t spill a drop of your blood, Aylin. Have I done so?”

Very cautiously, she placed a hand over her ribs. They were definitely broken, but her skin was intact. She almost certainly had copious internal bleeding, but there wasn’t technically a mark on her. How could she have been so stupid? “No, Senior Enchanter,” she responded, and she hated how small her voice sounded in the room.

“Good. Now I hope you’ll remember what I said about distractions.”

He turned and went back to his work, while she clumsily fumbled for mana, to heal herself enough that she could get down to the infirmary. Maybe if Derrick was on duty, he could do something about this. She’d never worked with anything like this, but maybe she could stem the damage enough that someone would be able to help.

The mana wouldn’t come. She was tapped dry. A sinking feeling settled around her as she realized that he’d sucked the last of her mana to power that spell. He’d foreseen what she would try to do, and prevented it.

When the darkness started crowding at the edges of her vision, she realized, a little too late, that the sinking feeling was also partly shock. She’d seen plenty of people pass out from pain. She’d just never done it herself. There’s a first time for everything.

She woke up in her bed, not the infirmary. Breathing hurt, and her cheeks were wet. She told herself it was just from the pain, and quietly began the long, painstaking process of knitting her ribs back together. Her trust - well, that was another thing entirely.


End file.
